


"Hook, Line, and Sinker!"

by Th3gab3 (orphan_account)



Series: Gab3's Roadhog week stories [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aka: why you should fear for your life if you get on makos bad side, Day One: Favorite Quote, Gen, Roadhog Week, or in this case, try to kill him with forty people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-27 00:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10798389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Th3gab3
Summary: A seemingly unimportant phrase now becomes among one of the many highly feared battle cries that ring throughout the Outback wastelands.





	"Hook, Line, and Sinker!"

"RUN! JUST RUN YOU-" The bandit was cut off as the steel chain caught him and dragged him off to his doom. All that could be heard was a menacing laugh, a scream, then nothing. It was something that would make even the most seasoned survivor shake with fear.

His allies took his advice without a second thought, not that there was really any choice for them in the first place. Out of all of the ghost towns they had to run into, it had to be the one with plenty of vantage points for this... _beast_ to hook them from. They were a group of raiders 40 men strong going after what was supposed to be a simple bounty. Now it was just five running for their lives from a nightmare of the wastes. 

Five, that turned into four as the hook caught another, followed by a resounding  **BOOM**.

The remaining four rush into a building, gasping and panting.

"We need to hold out and fight that monster right now! We have the supplies!"

"If forty of us couldn't beat him then, how do we have any hope of killing him now?!"

"He's weaker now! I heard him, he's huffing and puffing, and he must be bleeding somethin' fierce!"

"Alright alright, let's settle-" He doesn't finish the sentence as his head turns into red paste along the wall, the massive shadow of a cannon peeking through the dust where the window was. The three remaining rush upstairs and set up a holdout. They load their guns, sharpen their knives, and get any explosives ready.

"You, watch the stairs." One of them says to another. He does as he's told, creeping over to the staircase, hiding behind the wall before turning the corner, gun at the ready for any threat. He steps slowly down the stairs, and signals that there is nothing there. The first one lets out a breath he was holding.

They stay there for the night, air of tension still heavy around the dilapidated home. At dawn, the self appointed leader gets angry.

"Bastard is taunting us! We have to get him now! You! Check the stairs again!" The other steps down the staircase, and is immediately caught by a hook. A sickening  _crunch_ tells the last two exactly what happened to him. "NOW! Charge him now!"

The other scrambles to get up from his place on the floor, gun clutched shakily in his hands as they charge downstairs to find...nothing.

"WHERE ARE YA?! SHOW YOURSELF!"

He did just that with a hook around the leaders neck, dragging him to a broken wall and pinning him against it, all while remaining hidden. The last survivor could do nothing to help his ally as he choked to death, paralyzed with fear at how this enemy took out his entire group while never showing his face to him...if he even had a face. As the last breath of his ally was choked out, the survivor heard heavy, clunking stomps as the faceless enemy walked around the building, all the way to the front door. The survivors gun clattered to the floor; there was nothing more he could do. Death was here.

The door was ripped off it's hinges, as well as a large chunk of the wall surrounding it, a perfect fit for the behemoth of a man that now stood before him. He turned towards him, and finally got a good look at him. He was...surprisingly normal. Well, as normal as you could get in the wasteland. Still, there was no demon standing before him, no horrific beast made of the souls of the damned. Just a hulking man in a mask, which he looked almost pig-like. The man walks into the building, cannon raised.

"Well? Make it quick." The survivor says hopelessly, the ghost of sarcasm still lingering in his voice.

Laughing deeply, he pops open his gun and loads a pile of scrap into it. "Hook..."

The survivor closes his eyes.

"...Line..."

He takes in a breath.

"...and Sinker."

And then there is only Roadhog, now the last survivor in the ghost town.

**Author's Note:**

> Find out more and see other contributions to Roadhog week here!!
> 
> roadhogweek.tumblr.com


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